


only you can cool my desire (oh, i'm on fire)

by holy_smokes



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Adult reunion, Anal Fingering, Angst, Blowjobs, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sexual Content, Sexy stuff happens when they're 16+, Slut Shaming, Teen Romance, flirtation, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:26:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holy_smokes/pseuds/holy_smokes
Summary: Diego would do anything for Klaus, until he can't. Reginald won't have love in the Academy.





	only you can cool my desire (oh, i'm on fire)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I kinda started a new WIP which is fairly cracky and hopefully fun and warm but then I got hit with the feels. This is the feels. I hope you enjoy it though, even if it's mostly angsty. As always, your comments & love mean so much, I'd love to hear your thoughts <3

>  

It always was, always is, always will be, Klaus.

Diego knows it, in his heart, in his bones, every part of him lighting up and shaking whenever he thinks about him - whenever he remembers.

It’s been such a long time.

It never once felt strange to Diego, to have Klaus nestled in his embrace. It was a game, one they both kept winning. Thirteen years old and his heart would pound when Klaus would reach over and drop a folded piece of paper in his lap, their hands touching under the dinner table. Diego would keep it until he was alone in his bedroom, smiling before he opened it. Klaus doodled him pictures, silly, mocking illustrations of Dad and Luther, or of Diego winning a fight. Diego kept them safely tucked away in the back of his cupboard.

His contribution was to tackle Five extra violently during training after Five had near broken Klaus’s wrist, always too rough.

“Hurt him like that again and I’ll snap your skinny little neck,” he had gasped into Five’s ear, pinning his brother until Five reluctantly gave in, snarling.

Fourteen years old, Klaus crept into his bedroom at night. Diego’s whole body felt like it was melting, to see Klaus in his pale blue pyjamas, hair unruly, smiling at him as they whispered, sat side by side in Diego’s bed.

He wanted to touch Klaus so bad, so he did, hand resting on his thigh. Klaus had stopped talking mid-sentence, body tense, and Diego wondered if he felt it too - that curl in his stomach, the way his throat dried up.

Klaus joined their hands, leaning into Diego’s body. Diego wanted to beg him to stay, wanted to feel him close against his chest, but they knew the fall-out of being found in such a state would be catastrophic.

Klaus left him each night with an ache, a heaviness in his chest that as time went on Diego felt elsewhere.

Fifteen years old, Klaus must have felt it too. As he snuck in one night for their usual whispered jokes and to feel Diego’s hands on him, holding him close, he broke off from his position resting on Diego’s chest.

“Hey, so,” Klaus started, more shy than his daytime self, “is it - could you - kiss me?”

Diego felt blood rush south. Klaus, his beautiful brother, looked at him with a longing Diego felt just as painfully. He moved forward, brushing some hair out of Klaus’s eyes, studying the face he thought about all day and all night. Klaus always was a sight to behold with his cheekbones, big green eyes, soft brown curls and a body that was smaller than his brothers but strong and defined through Reginald’s strict exercise programme.

“Yeah,” he whispered, a little shy himself, but it was ok - Klaus smiled, grateful, and Diego felt like nothing in the world could beat this feeling.

He lived the days wishing them away. Night was when he felt alive, waiting patiently for Klaus’s arrival. It turns out there was something better than kissing.

Klaus arrived one evening with a smirk on his face that Diego knew could only mean the highest levels of trouble.

“What?”

Klaus blushed, which only made Diego hungrier for answers.

“Klaus!”

Klaus twisted his arm, letting something slide of the pyjama sleeve. It looked like a bottle, a squeezable bottle of -

                  _\- oh._

“Is this? - ”

“Do you want to?” Klaus asked, nervous, “I wanted to - touch you - I read this makes it better for you…”

Diego felt his brain fall out of his ears. Klaus was going to touch him. The times he allowed himself to think of his brother in that way, slender and pretty, always red faced and so _good_ for him, he came with a cry into his pillow. It was a fantasy, one he knew was within reach, but having it presented to him was almost overwhelming.

“Diego?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I want it.”

He sat back against the wall, feet dangling off his bed, as Klaus tentatively ran a hand over the hem of his pyjama bottoms. He reached in, taking Diego’s cock, quickly filling up from having a hand wrapped around it for the very first time. Looking at Klaus, he looked in awe, jerking Diego with delicate fingers.

“Kl-Klaus,” he stuttered, breath starting to feel tight. That was nothing compared to the clench, the wet tightness he felt as Klaus squeezed a little lube in his hand and started again, letting Diego fuck his fist.

He grabbed Klaus close as his balls tightened and he emptied himself all over his little brother, groaning into his wild hair, unable to focus as Klaus grimaced at the mess they’d made.

“Do you - want - ”

“It’s ok, I should go,” Klaus said, worried, wiping himself down, “Pogo will do checks soon. I just wanted to do that for you.”

He looked so perfect like that; mischievous, shy, pretty.

Diego kissed him his thanks, wishing they had more time. He wanted to see Klaus, too, wanted to make Klaus makes pretty noises, but they lived in a boarding school with a dictator and privacy was scarce. They had time. Diego thought that they had plenty of time.

Sixteen years old, on their birthdays, Klaus went down on him. Nothing could have prepared Diego for that. He came embarrassingly fast, but how could he be blamed, when Klaus’s mouth was hot and wet and he looked up at Diego with absolute adoration. Secrets get sloppy over the years and they were no exception to that. Unsatisfied with grabbing affection from one another solely at night, they took to hiding whenever Reginald was busy subjecting another sibling to training, hands all over one another. Klaus was gorgeous, smart, unashamed - he talked Diego through it when Diego first fingered him, searching for what he assumed was a mythical place, to make Klaus sing, but when they found it, _oh_.

All he wanted to do was to have Klaus loosely wrapped around him, face flushed, begging soft little ‘ _yes, yes, yes_ ’s as Diego ignored his arm cramping up because he couldn’t bear to break away and stop seeing Klaus contorted with pleasure.

So, yes, they got sloppy, sly remarks from Five making Diego paranoid - ( _“thousands of girls want to fuck you, Diego, but you’re always with that clown, Number Four_ ”) but he didn’t think - he just didn’t _think_.

The horror of Reginald bursting in on them as Klaus knelt over his hips, jerking his dick happily, Diego lying on top of his duvet, blissed out watching his brother work him, was a memory Diego wished he could erase. His stomach dropped, both shame and terror kicking in, turning to anger as Reginald grabbed Klaus’s skinny arm and hauled him off Diego with a strength he never knew his Father possessed.

“You disgusting little slut,” Reginald hissed at a terrified Klaus, Diego clambering to get a spare sheet around Klaus, pulling up his own pyjama bottoms.

“No, no, I’m not, it’s not - ”

Reginald slapped Klaus so hard Diego heard it echo. He lunged at his Father only to be whacked and thrown across the room by that damn stick, crying out in pain as his stomach protested at such violence. Klaus - _Klaus_ \- Reginald was dragging him out by his arm, holding him too tightly. Diego knew it would be hurting him and he tried, he _tried_ to get to his feet, to shout. Klaus was sobbing as he was marched away, other siblings opening doors in confusion and anxiety.

“To bed!” Reginald screamed, as if the sight of him forcing an extremely distressed, half-naked Klaus through the corridors was none of their business.

Diego managed to haul himself to his door, fighting tears. Five looked at him with a flash of concern before deciding to keep his nose out, slamming his door again. Luther looked marginally ill once the slow cogs in his brain figured out what had happened and Allison looked at him, concerned.

“Diego, what's going on?”

“Back to bed, children,” Pogo came into view, wanting to stamp out any conversation. Diego was too sore to argue, shutting his door before sobbing into his knees. His Father was cruel and merciless; Klaus wouldn’t stand a chance.

 

They didn’t see Klaus for four days.

Diego couldn’t stand it. He knew raising his voice, questioning his Father, was off limits yet he ached for Klaus in a way no physical harm could match. Reginald wasn’t stupid, knowing Diego’s temper, sending Grace to him on Day One to soothe him, her programmed words sounding empty.

_“Number Four is having a little rest away from all of you silly billies,” she smiled, “so you won’t see him for a little bit. Don’t worry, sweetie.”_

Diego needed to believe her.

His Father called for him on that fourth day. Diego was expecting his own punishment, dreaming up scenarios of what terrible things Reginald could do to him. He felt a flood of joy when upon walking into the study he saw Klaus, sat gingerly in front of Father’s desk, back in his uniform.

Klaus looked lifeless.

“Number Two,” Reginald boomed, “shut the door.”

Diego obeyed, frowning as he got closer to Klaus. He needed to talk to him, to find out what had happened, to kiss away whatever horrible things Reginald did.

“Number Four’s wayward behaviour and his seduction of you will now cease,” Reginald told them, zero emotion in his voice.

“That’s not - ”

Diego couldn’t find the words. Klaus didn’t _seduce_ him. He looked to Klaus, then back to his Father.

“Is that not the case, Number Four?”

Klaus blinked up at Reginald. Diego thought he might vomit.

“Yes, Father,” he spoke obediently, “I enticed Number Two. I’m sorry,” he sniffed, voice breaking.

“Wait, Klaus, that’s not how - ”

“Number Four’s whorish nature corrupted you, Number Two,” Reginald continued, as if Diego had never spoken, “isn’t that correct?”

Diego could hear the large grandfather clock ticking in the background. His Father’s piercing, haunted eyes kept him pinned, his breath trapped at the back of his throat.

“If this is incorrect, then perhaps Number Two needs the same treatment - ”

“ - No! - ” Klaus exclaimed, finally looking alive, “no, _please_. Diego, please just say it,” he begged, fighting back tears.

“Say what?”

“Confirm that Number Four is a whore who tricked you into that disgusting, unnatural behaviour I witnessed,” Reginald barked.

“Say it,” Klaus begged, becoming hysterical, “Diego! _Say it_!”

“Shut your wanton mouth,” Reginald yelled at a shivering Klaus, “say it, Number Two, or you’re coming with me.”

From the way Klaus looked, dozy and paler than usual, plus his terrified pleading, this was his way of protecting Diego. He felt everything change, felt the innocent love, untainted and true, become ashy and ugly, as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Number Four tricked me,” he lied, swallowing anger.

“And he’s what?”

Diego stared back at his Father. He wished, more than anything in the world, his powers worked on him. Reginald would be knifed so goddamn fast.

“He’s a whore,” Diego said, trying to keep his tone neutral. He felt his heart break when Klaus started to sob, his natural reaction forcing him to his feet to comfort his brother, only to be pushed away quite aggressively.

“Stay away from me,” Klaus hissed.

Reginald smiled.

 

No one asked Klaus about his absence. Diego became alarmed when during his training he spotted dots on Klaus’s inner forearm, clearly injection scars.

“What’s that?” he demanded to know as they sparred, Reginald’s attention on Ben.

“Nothing,” Klaus muttered, dodging a half-attempted punch.

“Did he give you drugs?”

“I don’t know,” Klaus replied, monotone, “he said it’s for whores.”

“What?” Diego asked, stopping, hating to hear Klaus speak about himself in such a manner. He looked so broken, like his soul had been zapped out of his body.

“It’s to stop me,” Klaus half-smiled, making a shiver run down Diego’s spine, “to stop me from wanting… that.”

“But - you’re not - it’s ok to -”

“Number Two!” Reginald’s roar shook him out of the conversation, angrily stomping over to his least favourite pairing. He indicated for Diego to swap places with Allison and Diego didn’t put up a fight. His mind whizzed with possibilities; Klaus, being pumped full of his Father’s poison, both physically and emotionally.

The void between them was endless. Diego never knew if the so-called medicine worked and he suspected it was more Reginald’s abusive language and threats that kept Klaus so distant. Everyone knew Four was smoking pot, that becoming a more regular and obvious problem. Diego felt like he was being starved, which in a way, he was. His bed was cold without Klaus’s body regularly warming it up and his heart hurt in a way he could barely cope with, having to leap out of bed and run laps of the house solely to focus on something other than the way he wanted to sob and tear out Reginald’s eyes.

He _missed_ Klaus, he needed him, he needed to kiss those pink lips, to have Klaus look up at him prettily as he knelt for Diego. He missed Klaus’s laugh and his stories.

Klaus sat next to him everyday at the breakfast table and Diego longed for him, every hour of every day.

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

That fateful night, the night he took a risk that shouldn’t have taken, was a cold one. Diego remembers he found a sweater at the back of his closet before he crept out of his room, careful and quiet as he reached Klaus’s, opening the door slowly and softly.

Klaus stared at him, furious.

“Are you _stupid?_ ” he angrily whispered, “Diego, get out!”

“No, I need to speak to you, I need you - ”

“Get out!” Klaus continued, helpless as Diego approached him. He was conflicted, terrified but wanting, Diego desperate as he sat on the edge of the bed, Klaus backed into the corner of his room.

“I can’t s-s-stand it,” Diego forced himself to say, hoping his voice wouldn’t break, “I hate this.”

Klaus hugged himself tightly, shaking his head.

“Please, Klaus,” Diego begged, “everything I said about you was a lie. You’re not a whore. Please, Klaus, I love you.”

They both looked at each other, astonished. Diego wasn’t expecting those words to fall out of his mouth. Still, he wasn’t ashamed of them, he meant them. Klaus melted, still scared, but reaching out for his hand and Diego grabbed it like it was fresh water and he’d been lost in the desert for months. _God,_ Klaus’s skin was so soft, so lovely, he could barely stand it, leaning in, stealing a kiss from the mouth that plagued his every waking moment.

“I’m scared,” Klaus sobbed, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Diego was fighting tears himself, chasing the ones on Klaus’s pretty face to wipe them away, kissing him all over. Klaus threw his hands around Diego’s shoulders, pulling him in, hot kisses making Diego harden against Klaus’s hip.

“I’ll get us out of here,” Diego babbled, sure of it once he said it, “I swear. Just don’t turn away from me.”

“I can’t,” Klaus cried, hanging onto Diego like he’s anchoring him to the earth, “I could never. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

He brushed his hand across Klaus’s crotch, slipping a hand in, an urge to make him feel something other than horror. It was so sweet, that addictive rush of Klaus being back where he belongs, in Diego’s arms and the soft little sounds of joy that left Klaus’s lips as Diego tugs on his cock were delicious.

Yet, for the second time, luck was not on their side, but this time, it was Diego being seized away and hit by that damn stick, his vision evaporating with the force of the blow. He vomited, the agony too great, and he doesn’t hear what was said, doesn’t know what was happening, just that Klaus was taken. _Klaus is gone._

 

Four days pass and on the fifth day, they arrived to breakfast with Reginald stood at the head of the table, ready to announce something.

“Children,” he boomed, “Number Four, as you may have noticed, has been absent.”

Eyes made their way to Diego.

“Number Four has proven himself to be a delinquent of the highest order,” Reginald continued, “a horrid boy whose powers are wasted on him, to the point he looks to sabotage _your_ powers.”

Diego fought the urge to snarl.

“He is, without a doubt, a crass, unwanted, filthy stain upon this Academy,” their Father pushed, “and he will, for now, no longer be a colleague of yours. I will be taking no questions on the matter.”

He sat back down with a thud, expecting the teenagers to do the same.

“Fuck you,” Diego said, “fuck you, you piece of shit.”

There was an audible gasp from Allison and a look of absolute horror on Luther’s face. Grace dropped the pot of tea she was carrying to the table. Diego felt drunk with fear but he didn’t care - he didn’t _care._ He won’t let Klaus be tainted like this, not his Klaus - his beautiful, wild, special Klaus - and Reginald can exact out any punishment he sees fit.

He just never expected his Father to bark out laughing.

They’ve never seen Reginald smile, yet he laughed at Diego’s outburst as if it were the funniest joke ever told. The mere sight, the uncomfortable and foreign sound of laughter from the old man made the rest of the table start to titter, until they were all fully giggling, roaring, all apart from Diego.

“Quite,” Reginald sighed, “now, now, enough, settle down, everyone.”

Diego’s anger trickled into confusion, and looking back, Diego will credit the evil old bastard with a fantastic execution of power right there.

Reginald grabbed his shoulder as the Academy dispersed after food.

“Any more unseemly behaviour or language from you, Number Two, would make life even more difficult for poor little Number Four,” he whispered into Diego’s ear, “your precious ‘Klaus’ will suffer for your disrespect today.”

“Wait, Dad, no - ”

He tried to turn around but Reginald’s grip was tight.

“Too late,” his Father reprimanded, “and going forward, you have a choice. You can get on with your training, forget about that useless little whore, or you can cause untold trouble and pain for both yourself and Number Four.”

He mustn’t have been expecting a comeback as he let Diego go with a slight push, Diego riddled with grief as he made his way back to his bedroom. Once a place of sanctuary, of innocence, exploring, of falling in love - it was now a graveyard, a haunted room that kept him a prisoner of his memories.

 

Klaus was gone for nineteen months.

It was too painful after that. Diego tried, but time had not been kind to Klaus, who wandered around in a perpetual state of dilated pupils, shaking hands, all skin and bone and not much else. Klaus spoke a little to Allison and through her Diego heard Klaus was kissing, blowing, fucking any girl or boy that wanted him as he snuck away after hours. It was clear to Diego by now their Father spied on them but of course he would allow Klaus to be promiscuous and unsafe - _wanton, whore, disgusting_ \- a self-fulling prophecy.

Diego watched from the sidelines, miserably in love from afar.

It was too dangerous to even try and repair the damage done. Klaus went missing a few months before their eighteenth birthdays and on his eighteenth birthday, Diego left. He had no money and no idea but being trapped inside that hellhole, pining, angry, was making him slowly lose his mind.

 

He’s now twenty nine years old and Dad is dead.

The Academy feels as invasive and awful as ever, even without Reginald’s presence. Diego’s heart leapt when Klaus arrived; messy, but _alive_. He’s wandering the corridors, fingers tracing the wall, when he finds Klaus in his old bedroom, reading his shitty old poems.

“Oh, Diego,” he motions, “look at this!”

Diego joins him, follows to where he’s pointing.

_Luther sucks ASS and not in a good way_

Klaus titters. He’s high, swaying to imaginary music. Diego smiles at the dumb insult.

“Hey,” he reaches for a hand, _still soft_ , Klaus looking at him curiously but allowing the contact.

“Hi,” Klaus smiles, “nice to meet you.”

 

Sometimes you can be reborn. The beginning of life often looks like death; it’s gore and battle. Diego is ready for the fight.

 

 


End file.
